“Whoa.” Said aloud as the glass dissolved. As it folded away. As the van’s interior was torn open to view, revealing that it wasn’t empty. That is was chock-full instead. Bales of something wrapped in black plastic, stacked to the roof.
She held some of it her hands, leafy, smelling of crime. She said aloud: “You fools.”
Eight Game-Changing Tips on Public Speaking
by Sheena Kamal
Financial District
1. Smile, motherfucker
It relaxes you on stage. You will not need to take a Xanax and fall asleep on top of Bridget the night before your big presentation, the one that you are flying into Seattle from Vancouver specifically to give. She has put up with too much of that shit already and girlfriend deserves a break. If you play your cards right, she may be compelled to share her suspicions that someone has been stealing from you for the past year, but whether or not that will happen depends entirely on your willingness to search for the mythical clitoris — which, let me tell you, actually exists. I can find it blindfolded with my arms tied behind my back. It’s right at the top of the — you know what? I’ll draw you a diagram.
For someone who has written astute in his web profile, you have a lot to learn. Not just about the female anatomy either, although it does show a certain lack of respect for the women in your life. I’m talking about the little details. I’m talking about the drips of money that have become a nice, steady river into someone else’s pocket.
We have worked together for two years now. Me in my Beyoncé-inspired wardrobe and you in your... how about we get to that later? For now, let me just say that the first day I walked into your corner office in the Financial District, overlooking Coal Harbour with the trees of Stanley Park edging the frame of your view, I knew something would give with this job. Or someone. I gave first.
Now it’s your turn.
2. Use the stage, but don’t pace
It makes you look like an asshole when you do that. All those years you spent dodging the homeless and the addicts on Hastings has made you surprisingly agile for a man your age, but you don’t need to advertise this during your speeches. Plus, your fashion sense can’t hold up to that kind of scrutiny. It’s amazing when people who have earned as much shady money as you have refuse to invest in a decent suit. Off the rack is not a good look on you.
People don’t talk about the Panama Papers anymore, they really don’t. But they should. It boggles my fertile, college-educated mind that the biggest white-collar corruption scandal of our day — with sexy highlights such as tax evasion, front companies, doctored communications, financial havens — seems to have disappeared like a puff of quality BC kush. Unsurprisingly, a haze of collective amnesia has set in. Nobody remembers that a company heavily involved in advising on these illegal havens for the yacht owners of this country was based in Vancouver. Your old company, in fact. You have stayed off social media and, because your family barely talks to you anymore, it was difficult for me to make the connections that I have recently made — but not impossible. Oh, the thrills of working for a tax planner!
Please don’t think I’m judging, even though, according to my nan, this kind of behavior is clearly not beyond me. I have done my share of pacing, so I know it is a sign of a guilty conscience. But you really shouldn’t reveal that much of yourself to a paying audience. They want the tips, not the guilt. That burden is for your battered soul alone.
3. Tone down the gesticulation
Repeat after me: “My arms are not windmills.” Keep them at your sides, bent at the elbows. This will allow you to highlight important points with a little flourish, but will prevent you from getting too worked up. Like the time you surprised me in the office with Juanita. We both knew that Juanita wasn’t helping me find my contact lens while we were half-naked under your desk, but you didn’t have to increase my workload by 30 percent because of your barely disguised homophobia.
What was I talking about?
Oh yeah, your arms. Keeping them at your side will also hide your pit stains. Honestly, I don’t know what Bridget sees in you — except for piles of other people’s money. She held the less-than-exalted position of being your executive assistant before leaving to work on her back. Make no mistake about it, it is work. I happened to see that nightmare video on your phone, which is not password protected for some ludicrous reason. How many times have I forwarded you those HuffPo articles about the security of your personal devices? I mean, people keep their entire lives on their phones these days. Terrible sex videos, appointments you haven’t synched to your official schedule, logs of shady phone calls to contacts at what seem to be shell companies, screenshots of certain account balances... you haven’t let go of your past yet, have you?
If Bridget has any sense, and obviously she does, she would have noticed the exact same discrepancies. Do you really think your phone sits untouched on your desk during your epic morning bathroom visits? It may seem that those bran muffins Bridget makes are your friend, but they truly are not. And, since we’re talking about Bridget, is it weird that she hired a lesbian to replace her? So that nobody else would get any ideas about her cash cow?
Please. She didn’t need to worry, bro, honestly. I wouldn’t touch you with someone else’s dusty vagina.
4. Rehearse, rehearse, rehearse
I can write your speeches for you (like the good little executive assistant I am), but I can’t make you good at giving them without a little effort on your part. Don’t practice in front of a mirror, do it while you’re puttering around the house — excuse me, golf course. Get the speech in your body and it will stay in your mind.
You know what stays in my mind?
The night you found me in your office with Juanita. That was when I first realized something was off. A late-night visit to the office isn’t exactly your style. You hadn’t forgotten anything — I made sure of that. And you haven’t burned the midnight oil in years. You needed to clean up a mess, didn’t you? Later I looked over your accounts.
It took me awhile to notice all that foreign money pouring into companies that you helped establish, before poof! the money disappeared into the ether of various offshore accounts. You did an awesome job at hiding the paper trail, by the way. I have to give you some grudging respect for that, at least. I used to think you were a total idiot, but I was wrong. Your idiocy isn’t all-encompassing. You’ve got your skills, man, you really do. Creating documents to cover up money transfers, contracts, and invoices. Slow applause from me for this. But there’s very little you can hide from your executive assistant when she’s got revenge on her mind.
I only had the time to do all this investigating and uncovering of trails, you understand, because Juanita broke up with me. She hasn’t come out yet, but we’d been slowly getting there until your surprise visit spooked the hell out of her. I won’t lie, this was a serious blow to my personal life. Do you know how hard it is for a lesbian to get laid in Vancouver?
The calls I made to her went unanswered. I got worried, because she’d taken to running the trails up by Pacific Spirit Park in the evenings after work, so I went by her place in Point Grey.
I waited for hours.
This is what love can do to a perfectly rational person when it slaps her upside the head. I was about to leave when I saw her walking down the road. She was just coming home from drinks, I assume, because I saw her on the sidewalk, wobbly on the high heels they made her wear at the perfume counter. There was a man holding her up by her elbow. She looked into his eyes and let him kiss her. Right in front of me.